Whisper
by xng
Summary: AU. A story that details the life of Shindo Hikaru, a 10 years old boy who's been given the ability to communicate with spirits. However, this gift or curse will either help or hinder his own progress with Go. 1st person narrative.


**WHISPER**  
By xngLai

Synopsis – A Hikaru no Go AU story that details the life of Shindo Hikaru, a 10 years old boy who's been given the ability to communicate with spirits. However, this gift or curse will either help or hinder his own progress with Go.

WARNING: This is not a romance story. So, for those who were expecting HikaruxSai, or any other pairings, you will have to look elsewhere.

NOTE: Glossary for Japanese terms (so far, just food names for this chapter that were difficult to translate directly in the content) can be found at the end of the chapter in order of appearance.

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December 31, 1996 – Part One

Glaring at the black and white mess on the goban before me, I couldn't help but gripped my shorts. But the tight knots remained in my stomach. It was as if invisible hands continuously grabbed my insides, gradually suffocating me with their squeezes to the point where my vision began to blur.

"It was a good game, Hikaru."

How soft and soothing was the voice, so gentle like a mother and yet, oddly masculine.

I could feel my eyes focusing again. My senses tingled as I felt myself return, as though I had been floating somewhere far away. I felt the chill of used wood underneath a thick layer of carpet, the prickling sensation of stained silence, the stiff air moved by soft breathing, the burning pain from tensed fists and cramped legs. And finally, when the pressure on my body shifted, I bent from exhaustion. In an instant, my blurred sight returned, releasing a pair of tickly warm wetness down the side of my face. My mouth moved on its own, liberating a wail that none other than my companion and I could hear.

Although I could no longer see him through my tears, I knew my companion was still there, somewhat patiently waiting until I was done wallowing in my loss.

But it just wasn't fair! I was so close to achieving my first victory and he just had to mercilessly destroy me at the last second! Kami, I hate feeling so weak, weak enough to shed these stupid tears...

A large but slender hand brushed the extra tears from my face. Instinctively I looked up, my sight resting on beautiful violet eyes. I could feel the smile and see the gentleness glowing from the pupils, and a sense of relief and comfort hugged me. But there was no way I was going to submit easily!

"You've become stronger again. You should be very proud of yourself."

Ha! Strong? He just overwhelmingly crushed me! My lips automatically formed a pout and I crossed my arms.

"Hikaru?" Was he beginning to whine now? Dammit! I could feel my stubborn wall gradually succumbing at the sight of his cute puppy look.

The fact that I was that much closer to his level was at least a bandage to my wound. Although I have yet to claim a win, I really admired him. He was an exquisite being, one heartwarming individual who had the strange power to make words gentle at times like this. With his feminine appearance, he had an otherworldly beauty.

I shifted my gaze to his black hair, its lavender shine threatening a darkish blue color in the early evening light. Its shininess and silkiness was tempting to touch, even more so when that hair was so long that it weaved around him, almost enough to make a cushion. It began by curving around his face, lightly outlining his smooth edges until it swerved to form the chin. Then it extended, floating around his form and sliding to shape an armor. His hair was so mesmerizing, it must be alive!

Despite his pleasing appearance, his clothes definitely made him stood out. His garments held some resemblance to the traditional Japanese attire, but they were obviously outdated. I wasn't an expert on such things, but Grandma had fussed much about how I worn my traditional clothes, so I was sure I have picked up a few things.

Peeking from the outer gown of pure whiteness, the collar was dyed in red-orange. It was perhaps the hitoe, an unlined robe that was worn underneath. And the sleeves of the hitoe, if I remembered correctly, were not sewn shut at the sides but sewn partially to the body. I've never seen it before though, and my fingers itched with the urge to flip his sleeves and satisfied my curiosity. But that wouldn't be very polite. Still, that didn't mean I would abandon the thought.

Then, there was the outer gown. Its standing round collar fastened close at the right side of the neck with a frog. The back of the gown graced towards the ankles, while the front bloused out over the abdomen with its end barely touching the knee. It was all held together by a belt, camouflaged with the gown. Its huge sleeves, which were attached at the upper back, contained a running cord that allowed this lovely being to gather them in at the wrist.

It should come as no surprise that his elegance matched his sweeping gesture. The sleeves would flap behind him when he glided to a sitting position, as though they were wings of an angel. His hair danced to each precise movement and was always the last to settle.

More than once, I've wondered if he was my guardian angel. Only an angel could be so perfectly beautiful. Well, it didn't matter if he truly was my guardian angel. I've already come to see him in that light, especially after learning quite early in my life that he was not my real mother. At first, it had come as a shocking disappointment. It later made sense after learning the differences between male and female.

Come to think of it, I don't even know his name or anything else. All I knew besides him as a person was his strong obsession for Go and music. He had always been right next to me for as long as I could remember. In fact, I could have sworn he was present throughout my ten years of existence. But if he didn't want to share his name or background, who am I to pester him? There must be a reason for keeping it all in. What mattered was that he remained the brotherly angel I adored.

He motioned to stand up, gradually rising and letting the sleeves fall into place. It felt more like watching a flower bloom.

"I'm glad to see you have stopped crying."

Strange, I hadn't noticed. Wait, did that mean I was just eyeing him with most likely, an odd look on my face? His comment triggered large amounts of unnecessary heat to rise to my face. I hate it when that happened, especially while witnessing this tall figure stand before me and teasing me with his smile. It was as though he shed his angel facade to reveal a playful and immature devil, readied one more time to seduce me to submit to his ways. I so wanted to pounce him. But before I had the chance, Grandpa's voice called from beyond the shed door.

"Hikaru! It's dinnertime! Come into the house now!"

I glanced at the goban before meeting the eyes of the so-called angel.

"If time permits, we can review the game before Akari arrives. Dinner and Grandpa come first."

I swelled up with happiness. It's not like anyone can just understand. But always, without a word, without reading my mind, he did. Just because of that, I'll forgive him for thrashing me on the goban. Well, just for today.

I climbed down the ladder and ran to the door, pounding quickly three times as a request to Grandpa.

"Of course! After dinner, we can have our usual game."

Grandpa's response was slightly muffled by the door, but my heart filled with more joy the minute I heard it. I immediately unlocked the door and dashed past Grandpa towards the house, feeling my dear teacher-friend follow me close behind. I was careful not to trip over Grandpa's tatami mats that were currently being aired out, but being excited made it that much harder.

Besides the freshly made smell of Oyako Donburi and Nikujaga that wafted towards me, my nose picked up the faint scent of Kuromame and Tataki Su Gobou. Their aromas reminded me that New Years Day was just hours away.

As I entered the brightly lit house, I was immediately greeted by a blast of heavy metal music that obviously came from the television. Was it already time for the annual music show, "Kohaku?" I must have been too absorbed in the game to not have noticed how much time had passed.

On the way to the dining room, I glanced at the television screen. I only had a glimpsed of four guys, but they had some of the strangest hair and outfits I've ever seen. The hair was outlandishly done in shades of two or more highlights – some in bright colors, such as red and yellow, and some in other dyes, like the dull dark brown or very light tan that could have been mistaken as white. Even my bangs, which I foolishly dyed blond a few years back, was overpowered in comparison. I don't even want to reminisce on why I dyed it in the first place. But actually, I do sort of like the result.

But boy! Their clothes were leathery and dark, ordained with chains and strings and other accessories. How gothic do they want to look?! Something simple should do, like a shirt and some pants. But would that be too plain? Akari will probably tease me again for my lack of sense for fashion.

"I'm getting goosebumps."

As I look at my angel, he shivered slightly in disapproval. I smiled inwardly. I should feel some guilt for pleasuring in his moment of discontentment, but I couldn't help but feel slightly pleased. It was so rare to see him uncomfortable.

"Ah, there you are, Hikaru!" said Daddy.

Grandma and Mommy sure were in a hurry, rushing about here and there. Daddy only seemed to be the only who took his time as he set the table.

"Say, why don't you wash your hands and help me finish setting the table?" he proposed. I nodded and obediently did as I was told.

"Why are singers getting worse these days?" my angelic companion asked.

How was I supposed to know? I didn't pay attention to such things.

"I like last year's episode, especially that duet from the red team. I just can't believe the red team lost! Their songs were wonderful!" Tears began to well up in his eyes and he openly soaked his long sleeves with them.

Really, was that something worth crying about? It was one year ago. Though, I have to keep in mind that he was always the emotional type. The topic was music after all. It was still disturbing how he always seemed to cry about some of the oddest things. I assumed he must be talking about the duet who sung enka. I rarely watched the show. It was too long for my taste, spanning for four hours of endless music competition between a white team and a red team. But apparently, everyone else in my family seemed to enjoy it. I rather spend that time studying Go or practicing my music with my angel teacher.

Which reminded me. I should ask Mommy and Daddy to get me a koto. It was one of teacher's favorites, but because I didn't had one, he hadn't taught me. However it'll have to wait til after the celebrations. Well, I hoped I could wait that long.

After finishing the request Daddy gave me, I sat down at my usual place at the dining room table, waiting for the food to be served and the eating to begin. Bit by bit, the savory aroma had my tummy growling in anticipation and my mouth beginning to drool. I must be really hungry if my stomach was not going to stop gnawing at me. Grandpa had returned to the house and took his seat next to me. He began chatting with Daddy about something work-related, which could only mean boring. So, just what could I do while I wait for the food?

I noticed my companion had averted his attention back to the television. I chuckled softly to myself as I remembered what he liked to call it – the cage with little flat people. Of course, what he watched normally was music related.

I can't blame him though. Music was a fascinating thing if not as grand as the game of Go. The biwa was an intriguing piece of work – a pear shaped, five stringed type of lute that was about 100 cm in length. Grandma gave me one made of red sandalwood. My request was of a rare object, or so she said, because the four-stringed biwa I had originally wanted was nearly become extinct. My guess was that it was probably overpowered by Western music and instruments. It wasn't one that Angel seemed familiar with, but he still managed to teach me the basics.

I'm rather fond of how my fingers worked on the strings. Each strum brought its dramatic voice to life, and yet, allowed its expression to a whisper. Maybe, I could perform a biwa piece for the friend I'm meeting tonight. I still owe him a gift. But it would be bothersome task to bring the biwa to such a crowded place. Akari will probably question me, and I didn't feel like writing it out for her.

I reached into my pocket and fingered the keychain, a finely made silver bell that rang happy and high, but remained as clear as the echoes of soft falling raindrops. I thought bells were mostly made of bronze. Maybe he knew about my condition and gave it to me, ensuring that I will be as sound as a bell.

I always found it odd how every year, for the past three years, the only time I had ever met him was on New Years Eve. It was quite weird how comfortable I felt around him since I barely knew him. It was as though there was a special connection between us, something that immediately clicked. It reminded me of my bond with Angel.

He did look abnormally astonishing. It was possible that there was a childish devil side lurking beneath his innocent façade, despite how his bright teal eyes were remarkably crystal clear and never seeming to hold anything back. His strangely dark hair was quite girlish as it was usually left unbounded, so perfectly trimmed and evened. It wasn't dreadfully long like Angel's, but it was long enough to just barely touch his shoulders. It was hard to see what color his hair was in the dark, but one time, I swore I thought his hair was green – green as an olive. But it may have just been a trick of the light.

Out popped a curious thought. Could he be another of those special earthbound spirits that only I could see? I hadn't seen too many of them recently.

I tensed at the thought and felt the tip of the bell's clapper for comfort. I really dislike the thought. It just wasn't logically possible. If he was a spirit, he wouldn't be able to give me the keychain. But something bothered me. How come no one seemed to know about this friend or see him aside from Angel?

"No way! I'll vote for the red team! Didn't you hear the song by TRF, 'Legend of Wind'?" Grandma spoke enthusiastically. Her loud voice as she debated with Mommy caught my attention and it temporarily snapped me out of my thoughts.

It was impossible not to sigh. Mommy and Grandma were arguing about red team versus white team like they always do, while I'm sitting here like a dork and worrying about something so pointless. Who cared if my friend was a spirit or not? It hasn't bothered me before. Why should it bother me now? It shouldn't change the fact that I enjoyed being with him. But when I think about it, what can I give to him as a present?

The biwa's too troublesome. Would he even like listening to such classical music? Besides Go, music was the only way I could express myself. He was very nice and respectful. Perhaps he would enjoy it.

I rubbed the side of my head, feeling a small migraine forming. How silly of me, to try and think too much. I should calm myself. Slowly, I inhaled and exhaled. The air cycled through me as my head began to clear.

But really, what should I play? To me, the yokobue was a better charmer. Although similar to the bamboo flute, fue, the yokobue was played horizontally instead of vertically. I preferred the 35 cm horizontally long instrument with its seven holes. It positioned more comfortably with my fingers. Plus, the piercing and harsh voice was enticing, which allowed my thoughts and emotions to overflow in ways which words could not express. Its voice harmonized cicadas, conveying a message to the quiet and unassuming souls as it poked the empty night. It was lonely, it was seeking, it was wondering, it was whispering, and it was resilient. A rare ecstasy arises from just hearing its rejuvenating song. But could it be fully understood? If I played for him my yokobue song, will he be able to discern me – my emotions, my thoughts, the magic, just me? Or beyond my angel, it is impossible for a stranger to perceive another? Gah, stupid migraine! It's a good thing I don't get it when I study Go or when I think during a game.

At last, the growling in my stomach halt to a stop. Finally, I get to satisfy my tummy!

Once Mommy set down the last dish, I quickly gobbled my food. Instead of giving myself headaches, I should be thinking of how I'll play against Grandpa. He's been rapidly growing weaker over the years, but it was always fun to mess around with him. How should I go about doing that this time around, and still keep the game respectful? I shouldn't think about it too much. Angel will probably tease me again on how I have the tendency to worry and think myself half to death about such things.

Dinner was finished once we had our fill of toshikoshi ubon, though I took my time chewing the flavored scallions. Grandma and Mommy took over the kitchen, but they sometimes returned to the living room to check on the music competition. Daddy was probably resting in his room, tired from cleaning and many partying with his workmates. So I returned my attention to Angel, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Hikaru, all done? You have to see this! White team made a comeback!" He pointed enthusiastically at the screen. "That last song was just marvelous! And the music was quite alluring. I think we should try playing it on the biwa!" Unable to hold his excitement, he bounced all over the room. I bet he was thinking how we could play it and how he would teach the song.

I swallowed my annoyance. Everyone was getting so worked up over one show. After a moment, he appeared to have calmed down and smiled widely at me.

"Are you having your game with Grandpa now?"

I nodded. In an instant, he reverted back to jumping.

"Yay! Let's go! Hurry, hurry! That a way!"

His childish joy was infectious. He clung onto me with such gusto as I led the way to Grandpa's room, and occasionally, he cheered and eagerly pointed towards our destination. It didn't take long to reach the room, but already, I could feel my insides twist with the anxiety and excitement of the next game.

_Pachi. _

_Pachi._

A moment of silence followed by a sharp intake of air. Then it inevitably came.

"I resigned."

In an instant, all intensity dispersed. I focused my attention on Grandpa as I felt myself return to my surroundings, finally feeling the warmth of the small room. I tightened the grip on my shorts, holding back the disappointment from showing on my face.

The game was a complete disaster. It wasn't much of a challenge at all. It was as though Grandpa hadn't learnt how to play before. It wasn't even on the usual level of his dreadful play. I could only assume today must be one of his bad days.

"You just keep getting stronger and stronger, but your style hasn't changed. It's still…funny...strange."

Grandpa always said that. Of course he'll praise me by saying I'm stronger. I am his grandson. Yet, even after all these years, I still didn't get his last comment. _His_ play was the one that's strange. And if my style was strange, why do I keep beating the crap out of him, even when I try to restrict myself from annihilating some of his groups?

"It would be a shame for your talent to go to waste. Have you ever thought about what you want to do with it?"

Now, that was new.

"Perhaps we can start by enrolling you in a child's tournament." He seemed to mumble more to himself than to me. But a tournament? That sounded like fun!

It would be an exciting experience! But I was skeptical. There just can't be other kids who truly found Go as interesting as I do, or even found it interesting enough to be skilled. Besides, everyone I knew hadn't the slightest clue about the game and could care less about it. If that wasn't the case, those losers found it unpleasant and a waste of time.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. With Grandpa's permission, the door gave way to a girl. Here came Fujisaki Akari, with her usual pigtails and short height. Short? Darn! She was short, but I was shorter than her! Don't tell me I got the short genes!

"I'm sorry to interrupt your game." She bowed apologetically.

Well, just about everyone else I knew was ignorant of Go, everyone except for her. At least she didn't find it horrendously disturbing. In fact, she was pretty darn good, and certainly capable of destroying Grandpa on the goban. It kind of made me regret ever teaching her the game. At least I had someone else to play with then just letting the devil side of Angel dominate me.

"Don't worry. We were just finished." I eyed Grandpa as he sheepishly explained his loss to her. Losing to youngsters so many times must be pretty sad for Grandpa. "It's just so amazing how fast the young ones are learning!" I sensed his amazement vibrating in the slightly stuffy room. "It's a good thing the Go world to still have fresh, young talents." His awe and happiness was clearly overflowing. I didn't even need my sixth sense to catch it.

I arched a brow towards Akari. Just how wrong can I be when it came to Grandpa? Did he ever feel depressed at losing?

She glanced at me and must have noticed my look. Her soft giggle bounced in the room and filled in the awkwardness I was beginning to sense. "Anyway, Hikaru and I will be heading out to the usual Shinto shrine. You won't mind if we take a bit more time viewing the sunrise before returning, would you?"

"Just be sure to be careful and stick together. Watching the sunrise is good for your health, but exhausting yourself is not. Remember! Stay safe!"

Grandpa worried too much. We're big kids now.

"I'll be sure to keep an eye on Hikaru."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I don't need a babysitter. Nor do I need Akari to be a mother, a side that commonly emerged without warning.

What about the tournament? Is Grandpa serious? Will Akari join? I peeked at my companion. It was so obvious what he thought, especially when he had a tight grip on his favorite fan and his eyes glisten with the intensity and thrill of challenging someone. He was too hopeful, and my mouth twisted in dismay. My head was bursting with questions, but I had to mentally push them aside. I shouldn't think too much about such things. To hope for something as unlikely as the tournament would only depress me later. It hadn't been affirmed anyway. Although, it would be awesome if something like that did happen.

On our walk to the Shinto shrine, with my angel energetically skipping right behind us, I was still troubled at the fact that I still hadn't thought of a gift for my midnight friend. It was something I had been musing for over half a year but to no avail. Maybe it was because I didn't know him well enough to know what would be the perfect present. But music and Go were the best things I could think of.

Well, maybe not Go. He might find it dull like the other kids. But he did seem like the type to play such a game, so maybe Go? Or was music better? It was an endless game of ping pong between those two. Oh well. It's not like tonight will be the last time I see him. Still, it bothered me that I hadn't given him something in return for the bell. Just because of that, I had a creeping sensation that something in our relationship was going to change. What an annoying feeling!

In the crisp night atmosphere, I tried to relax myself. A faint dampness flooded my senses. It must be the after effects from the rain the other day. At least the sky was clear, although unusually bright. My senses expanded to distinguish every little chirps and croaks and felt the slight brush of a gentle breeze. Then another gentle brush, this time swerving around me.

Something seemed off. The usual night's music was rhythmically unsteadied. The tension in the air seemed to shift and the dampness had deepened ever so slightly. The responses to the chirping and croaking were too soft and irregularly high pitched than usual. The change was small though, but I doubt I would have noticed it had I not been familiar with their pattern. My intuition curiously poked me. With a little assistance from experience, it concluded the abnormal occurrences as a prelude to a change. What kind of change though? In any case, I really detested the feeling. It was so unusually disturbing. I should have just turn back and returned home. Who cared if Akari prompted me with questions? I could just ignored them.

I glanced at my angel. He appeared too happy to care, or maybe he didn't notice it. Strange. Usually he was the first to notice the changes, or maybe I'm just thinking too much. No, that seemed too much to hope for. Oh, what the heck. I'll ignore it like usual, and deal with it when it happened.

The trip to the shrine appeared shorter than normal. Like previous years, there was a large crowd. Even with the crowd, the uneasy feeling remained, nestled tightly within me. I really, absolutely hoped something out of the ordinary wouldn't happen tonight. As we proceeded up the long staircase, I fervently wished my sixth sense wouldn't kick in.

* * *

**GLOSSARY: **In order of appearance

Oyako Donburi – a chicken and egg dish served over rice

Nikujaga – beef and potato stew, flavored with sweet soy

Kuromame – black beans, one of many osechi dishes (meaning they're specially made for the New Year)

Tataki Su Gobou – vinegared patted burdock, another among many osechi dishes

Kohaku – short named for an annual, top rated, music program broadcasted by NHK; a program that divides the most popular J-pop artists and enka singers of the year into competing teams (red group consisted of females, white group composed of males)

Toshikoshi Ubon – a bowl of noodles often eaten plain, though sometimes tempura or scallions added; it's a tradition in which people eat to associate crossing from one year to the next


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